


RWBY Legacies: Credence

by Blutstrom, Mistfather



Series: RWBY: Legacies [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: BECAUSE I CRIED, Blutstrom says it's angst, F/F, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Fighting Racism, Gen, I AM F###ING RETIRED!Yang, I am sorry if this is confused with other Legacies fics., I couldn't traumatise the real characters more, I did not know that was a thing until after I had the name., Legacy!AU, M for language, M/M, Multi, OCs - Freeform, So I made new victims, You'll love these guys when you get to know them, oh and, tags trying to be funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blutstrom/pseuds/Blutstrom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistfather/pseuds/Mistfather
Summary: After the story of RWBY, the world goes on, Despite the best intentions, it's still not a nice place for everyone, and with the cataclysmic wake of fighting a piece of nature itself, things have gotten more complicated than ever before. Lineages of Hunters find themselves drained of aura, some have double semblances, and faunus genetics have scrambled in ways that shake the divisions to their core. With anti-faunus hatred increasing in the shadow of the old White Fang, a hopeful few take what they were given, their Legacies, and try to make the world better, if not the best





	1. Tussle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konnor was never good with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your past doesn't define who you are. It just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be.

It was a cold, crisp night when he broke that man's arm at the Golden Dragon Fight Club. They hadn't scheduled the fight, making it a major violation of the owner's rules, but Konnor was too pissed off at the racist asshole to care at that point. As said asshole somehow pulled himself up from the dent in the smooth metal bar counter, other patrons began to hurriedly move aside, as what was going to come next had been seen a thousand times before, and lost its novelty quickly. Konnor let his emotions and will, his very soul, form an aura around his skin as he moved forward, but a single loud crack stopped the entire club.

 

Silence fell as a beautiful woman lowered her arm, grabbing the edge of the second floor’s balcony and leaning out to see the new troublemaker. Gentle lilac eyes and flowing blonde hair fooling no one about how dangerously powerful she was as she shouted to the kid in black, “Hey! Ring’s closed! You want to fight, you're going to have to fight me, and I'm not holding back on you for wrecking my club!”

 

 _Owner Yang Xiao Long,_ Konnor's mind recalled. _Former Huntress, high-risk opponent. Semblance enhances strength, brawler with set of shotgun/knuckle duster gauntlets, weakness is minimal disadvantage against kick-based fighting style. Likelihood of victory is not in majority. Assessment: Fuck it._

 

He drew a long, patterned combat knife from a sheath on his thigh in a reverse grip and turned to her, ignoring his former combatant as the blonde titaness before him smiled. Both were probably enjoying themselves a bit too much right then, adrenaline pumping and neurons firing as two warriors prepared to fight. They were both in for a surprise.

 

Xiao Long moved first, a streak of gold powered forwards by gunpowder, Dust, and toned muscle, and went right for the kid's hand, bluffing an attempt to disarm him. Konnor flipped his knife to a sword-like grip and slashed upward, catching the punch and redirecting the resulting shotgun blast into the ceiling. As lights went out, he locked his leg with hers and drew it to him, pulling her off balance as his free arm drove its elbow into her face.

 

Yang went backwards with the blow and rolled back to her feet. _Okay, so the kid isn't any kind of pusho- oh, SHIT!_ She ducked as Konnor, still pressing his advantage, slashed for her face, blade barely bouncing off the edge of her aura. It felt… off. She stepped back again, glancing at the red and grey ripples that marked the blade. How had this kid, who certainly didn't look the part of someone like Weissy or her sister, been able to afford a whole blade made of **that**? She drove forward, propelling her elbow into the kid's stomach, making sure to keep an eye on his right hand and the oddity it held.

 

Konnor felt the shock of the elbow even through his aura. She was stronger than he'd been led to believe, which was saying something. He stopped his assault and circled the Huntress. She looked curious, undoubtedly recognizing Kaltezherz for what it was, but otherwise unbothered by him. It was clear she had lied, at least partially, about holding back. _Opponent does not feel obligated to take me as a threat,_ he thought. _I will correct that error._ He slowly switched his grip on the handle of his knife back to its original, then, smiling for the first time in what had felt like years, he slid it back into its sheath. The smile was pulled out of his face as he widened his stance, held both of his gloved fists in a mimicry of her fighting stance, and locked eyes with her. As curious lilac met stone cold jade, he raised one of his fists in front of his face and taunted her forward with a simple, one-fingered gesture.

 

This pissed her off a little bit, but she was experienced enough not to rush in like at first. With determination, Yang walked, arms at her side, to the kid and calmly pulled a punch to his face, expecting him to defend. Konnor took the left hook right to the jaw and grabbed the owner's arm. With a slight clicking noise, inch-long talons slid from each finger and digging the steel of Yang’s gauntlet. Surprised, she tried to pull back, but Konnor pressed his advantage and, with immovable footing, pulled her even closer, claws coming from his second hand as it slashed for her face again. She felt the impact of aura against aura, and the thin claws slipped far enough through to break the skin along her cheek, leaving a thin red line as the fiery glow that defended her staunched the blood flow. Now she worried, that attempt hadn't hurt her, really, but the fight had already taken out a decent chunk of her aura. And he was good with those claws. Better, even, than with the knife.

 

Konnor pressed his attack, slashing, punching, and kicking her back, taking her aura down bit by bit as his own stayed the same. He was starting to enjoy this fight, the challenge, the forces at opposition, even the rush of combat made him almost have fun. He threw a punch straight for her stomach, but she caught his arm as she dodged, throwing him hard through a window and into the empty lot next door. As she stepped into the concrete clearing, she cracked one of her knuckles and smiled.

 

“Now that actually hurt,” she said, impressed. Something about her had changed. Did her hair seem lighter? “Not many Huntsman, much less a kid, ever got me this far. I can't even remember Xiao Long it's been side I've had this much fun.”

 

Konnor frowned at that. _Did she just-_? He never completed that thought as a surprise blow sent him flying once again, this time into the concrete wall behind him. To say that it hurt would do the new fracture in one of his ribs no justice, that one punch he knew took out a fifth of his aura at least. He staggered forward, gathering his wits as his opponent calmly closed the distance. He couldn't take many more punches like that. _Place Opponent back on the defensive. I'll need to pull another trick **.** That'll do it._ Calming himself, he pushed his aura, angling it into a series of sensors along his arms, and measured the distance between them. With one motion, he aimed his arm and launched a silvery blade from his wrist.

 

Yang sidestepped the projectile, taken back for a split second by the sheer number of weapons this kid had. She saw a few blond curls snipped off by the weapon’s edge, then spotted the thin chord still going from the kid’s wrist. _A chain knife of some sort? What’s with this kid and-_ her thoughts halted as the kid jumped forward, chord retracting to bring the wrist blade back to its place before he dove in again. She was getting sick of this back-and forth, was a little pissed at this punkish kid messing with her hair, and had a club to run, so she decided to cut it short. With practiced ease, she activated her semblance, feeling the rush of power from her previous injuries rush back to her. She caught the kid’s arm, and… it slipped? She watched as his arm seemed to slide through her fingers without resistance, his whole position shifting as his foot came around and slammed across her face. She grimaced- that one wouldn’t feel right for a while, even with aura- and turned back to face him, feeling even more power flood her as her scalp began to tingle. _That’s it. No more playing, kid._

 

Konnor woke up staring at the stars, probably with a broken arm. He tried to move, but the sharp pain in his side warned against that until his aura had patched it up sufficiently. He groaned, then quieted as he heard the shuffling and click of combat boots as his former opponent, Yang Xiao Long, came into his limited range of view. “I have to admit, kid,” she said, smiling and leaning down. “You’ve got guts, and the ache in my jaw says you have the muscle and brains to back them up, sometimes, but try not to do anything too stupid before you get the experience to stay out of a stupid fight.” Her arm moved, and Konnor covered his face and chest, expecting another blow. Nothing came. He looked back up, noting the confusion and concern in Ms. Xiao Long’s eyes. _It could be a trap, but she’s in too compromised of a position. She is significantly stronger, however, so that could negate the disadvantage. Could this be a trap?_ He kept his eyes on the hand. It was wide open, the steely weapon around it collapsed into a gold bracelet, just in his good arm’s reach. _Assessment: fuck it._ He grabbed the hand, trusting her to pull him up as his aura held his body in some vague shape of functioning. He felt tired, but he had to ask her.  
  
“You know where I’m going?”

 

Yang was a bit taken aback by his voice. Not harsh or hostile, but still very strong, despite its owner not having been conscious a few seconds ago. It was gruff, too, and deep, like a growl. She answered the question just the same. “Where else would you be going?”

 

He nodded, a flicker of a smile crossing his face as the hand up was turned into a handshake. “Konnor.”  
  
“Yang.”

 

“Thank you. I’ll be glad to visit again, sometime after I begin.”

 

“Come a bit earlier in the night, kid, and you might make a bit of cash for a fight like that. As it stands, no harm too bad to worry about, and now you know the rules. Just don’t make me do this again.”

 

“Of course.” He nodded, then turned, walking towards a large lighthouse-like tower further inland.

 

Yang watched the kid go. She felt old, seeing him march so willingly into a hell of a lifestyle. She knew her old teammates could handle him, but she also knew what living as a Hunter of Grimm did to people and, as she rubbed the fake skin over her arm, she couldn’t help but see a disaster about to happen.

 

“He’ll survive.” She muttered to herself, then put on her usual grin as she walked back into her place, the bass-filled music drowning out everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. My first story, what got me into the show, actually, as I'd never even heard of RWBY until a good friend was talking about it to another good friend and I just had to butt in. As a starting note, I'm going to post the "Trailers" (literary tributes to the animated trailers I saw. You are awesome, Monty), judge how the response is, then post the rest of it regardless. I'll be glad to see how you guys like it, seeing as how (looks at following at time of creation) I have no following, I can only go up. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and many thanks to the adventurous/bored who venture down here.
> 
> (And of course I had to use Carolina's line. It just fits so well.)


	2. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice knows how to get things done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world has left me with nothing, so I will choose to give it something better.

One would be surprised how easy it is to get thrown in a jail cell. A little alcohol on the tongue, a few choice words outside a police station in the nicer part of town, and she was one of two jailed minors in the building. Good. That was the plan. Allison Thistle didn’t intend to stay for the filtering, IDing, and eventual call to child services, however; this wasn’t a turn in or surrender. This was a carefully constructed breakout. The girl ran a hand through her hair, then began to wait, listening around her for the two people she knew would be here. Sharp as always, her hearing picked out the sounds of small but rhythmic breathing and, later, the young officer succumbing to his lethargy and drifting off himself. Good. She hadn’t woken up either.

 

Moving to the window of her cell, she let out a short whistle, cueing her man on the outside to jump the short wall and deliver her equipment. She looked at the set carefully; it wasn’t much, just a set of lock picks, her ragged hoodie, which she knew they would’ve taken if she’d been wearing it, and a set of gleaming steel gauntlets, every joint sharpened to a dangerous edge. The picks were for obvious reasons, and the jacket was for comforting both her and her target, but the claws were, well, just in case. Alice liked to prepare for “just in case.” Silently, she slid the picks into the cell’s lock, bending her arms sharply to reach it. It was time-consuming, carefully testing and teasing the lock, but a satisfying click later, and she was free. She didn’t take long to find her target.  
  
Unlocking the second cell much more quickly, she walked in and crouched, gently picking up the little girl. Her body shifted slightly, and the cat-like ears in her tortoiseshell hair flicked before the girl opened her eyes to see her smiling older sister. Alice put her finger to her lip, and her little sister, Riley, knew to keep quiet. She wrapped the child in her jacket, then crept past the officer into the night air, where her oldest friend was waiting for their little sister.

 

In the dark, she almost never saw the policeman who shouted freeze. Before she turned to meet the voice, she had registered both the youth and fear in it. _That’s not good. That blend makes you do something stupid._ The boy in uniform, probably the other’s partner, stared at her with wide eyes. She saw the thoughts “Night” “faunus” “suspicious package” and “weapon” all flash through his eyes in those few seconds, then a very familiar silhouette appeared in front of her.

 

She never saw the bullet go in, but it was obvious. In the moments between Scruffy hitting the ground and the cop starting to think again, a part of her flicked on with a level of aggression she would use a lot more in her life later on. Her hand came up and she jumped forward, steel claw knocking steel barrel away as its twin went for the man’s head. He fell just like Scruffy had, and something else in Alice reacted, her brain going from feral fury to a screeching halt.

 

_Scruffy._

_Oh, no. no no no no!_

 

Alice set down Riley to pick her old friend up, carrying him away to the only home they had. She didn’t know why or to who, but she began to pray for her to be wrong.

 

He was alive. That was all the good news she had. That and maybe he had pushed past the pain into consciousness. “You always have to be stubborn, don’t you?” she whispered. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. Not him. Not after what he’d done. _Please…_

Scruffy let out a weary chuckle, his fuzzy black-and-white ears curled from the pain. He knew. “Like I’d let anyone hurt you, Pup.” He refused to look at her. He was being brave, the bastard.

 

She continued to stitch the wound, Riley whimpering in the hug of her other siblings. Alice didn’t know what she was doing, this had never happened before. She didn’t dare stop, though, that same voice in the back of her mind. _Please… Please… Please…_ “Well, put it to good use. I can’t have you d- lying around while we’ve got work to do.”

 

Their eyes met, and Alice saw it. The fear. Dust, he was so scared. _Please…_ “Don’t worry, you’re a hell of a nurse. I doubt I’ll feel anything in the morning.” He breathed in, shuddering. One ear flicked in the kids’ direction. After all of this, he still didn’t want them to be scared.

 

“No.” She was half surprised the word came out, but once it did, Alice felt the rest pour through. “Please, no. Please, no. _Please…_ ” Something in her broke. Something she knew she’d never be able to fix again. A dam of emotion, fear, sheer willpower, crumbled

And a flood of complete _Her_ flooded through. She wouldn’t let this happen. She said no. She demanded that whatever else there was would _LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE!_

 

And the skin began to seal itself. Right under her hand, she felt blood stop, color return, muscles and bone reknit themselves and pain vanish with the injuries that caused it.

 

Scruffy looked at her after the very last time, and he saw it. Covering the astonishment, covering her face, covering her whole damn body was an energy, violet and flashing, that marked the impossible. She had power. For once, one of them, someone from the very lowest point in the world had an impossible hope. “It’s okay,” she whispered, believing it. “It’s okay.” She hugged him close. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

 

“I’m okay.” He hugged her back, and she stopped, ironically deathly silent for once. “I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allison (or Alice for short) will always be a favorite of mine. This shows a few of her facets to start off with, but she is so much more. oftentimes, She'll surprise me, so I really hope it translates well to you guys. Anyway, I may not have explained it properly, but I'm posting all four of these AT ONCE, not as I write them (already wrote them). Volume 1 will be as-I-write (and if there's a shorter term for that, please comment it). As always, comments and kudos will be much appreciated.


	3. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matlal has no idea what he's doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the chaos of the world, I seek to balance myself to find my peace. That balance will be hard won, I know, but it is still worth the effort.

It was official. He would never, ever, **ever** eat fish stew again. As he crawled from his hiding place of many a night on the ship, Matlal tried to remove the very memory of the rotted crew’s food in the nearby container, with no avail. Resignedly, the tall man moved towards the porthole at the side (port side, he thought) and gazed into the vast kingdom at night. Vale was certainly… different from Vacuo. Polished, in a way, and a bit cold, but also kind of inviting. The few people on the docks certainly seemed nice. Matlal leaned closer, trying to get a better view of them, when he heard the thud of the door wheel being opened. Looking around, and finding nothing close enough, he turned back to the circular window, only a little wider than his shoulders.

 _Well,_ he thought, _I was going to leave soon anyway._

 

He shoved open the porthole and climbed through, jumping to the dock as he heard the call of “stowaway!“ come from behind him. _A bit late on that one, aren’t they?_ he thought. Running along the wooden dock, he turned into the city, smiling to himself.

 

The officer he bumped into thought it was nowhere near that funny.

Matlal scrambled, slipping around the policeman and racing down a back alley, delving further into the heart of the city. After a few minutes running, he stopped, certain he’d lost the cop, along with whatever sense of direction he had had at first. He glanced around, trying to work out where a major street could be. Damn. He wasn’t that familiar with _Vacuo’s_ streets, much less the overcrowded sardine can that was Vale. He flicked his eyes to a narrow set of rungs, leading to the roof of one of the buildings. His stomach dropped. _Not going that way._ He picked a street at random. At worst, there would be another officer, and he was running more out of courtesy than an actual inability to beat one. At best, straight shot to safety.

 

He came face to face with an angry mob. They had masks. Some had weapons. He had scales. _I fucking hate you_ , he thought to whatever controlled his destiny as he shot down a side alley. He didn’t know why, but his luck always went sideways when he got optimistic. There was no way it would stop him, but it got to be a bother from time to time. _Case in point: anti-faunus riot on the first day. Shit, people still do that?_ Footsteps, some of the faster rioters, followed him. They would never outlast him at any speed, but he knew they had two other advantages; they could be faster, and he did not know this city. This was proven when he came up against a dead end.

 

Matlal set down his pack, turning to the followers. They didn’t look like the other rioters had. Clean, matching uniforms, detailed masks, even their weapons were more police- or military-line than civilian. On top of that, they moved with a surety- grace, even- he’d only expect from trained fighters. _Plants. Did they start the riot? Invigorate it? Are they related to what happened with Dad and Donna?_ He let none of this show, instead smiling gently and trying to hide his accent. “Listen, I know none of us want any real trouble, S-so how’s about we try to settle this peacefully so I can find a few of my folks- “

 

“Cut the shit, snake.” Dammit. They were not happy, and they were getting closer. _Well, so much for being nice about this._ He stepped forward and felt something. The injustice of it all, what he had had to do to get even _here,_ and they wouldn’t even let him live? No. He wasn’t going to just die here. He was Matlacoatl of Salus, and he was pissed, too.

 

With his emotions bubbling to the surface, a spark went across is skin, a hint of sulfur hit his nose, and blue flame rippled across his whole body. As his attackers stepped back, shocked, he jumped forward, rolling into a front flip to kick the closest one in the hand, driving their weapon- a classic sword-gun combo- into the ground blade first. He carried through with the motion, leaping to his first opponent and driving his fist into their chest. Staggering back, he knew they still heard the crack of his body snapping their sword’s blade in half, but they stopped when he aimed the pistol in its sheath at their masked face.

 

The second thug had circled behind him, he knew, and he felt their pounding feet as they tried to rush him from behind. _Odd, the fire usually scares them off from that_. He turned down the heat, drawing his own knife and slamming it pommel-first into the advancing thug’s skull. The built-in taser sent the figure collapsing as he twisted around the momentum.

 

 With one down and the other weaponless, he took his time melting the spare sword hilt under his boot, then picked up his pack and turned to the wall. _Okay, get over it, you could easily survive that fall._ Using the broken blade and his own knife, it was short work to climb the soft-stone warehouse and find a decent place to set up.

 

He laid down on the flat roof, makeshift pillow feeling almost decent. Eventually, his heart reached normal levels, and he began to plan. _I’ll need to hide my scales,_ he thought, rubbing the brown triangles blending into his arm. _Donna would be on the Hunters’ radar, so getting into Beacon is still my best bet. I’ll need a better weapon, something with a bit more versatility, and maybe a bit more training while I’m at it. So far, not a bad day, just need to survive the rest of them._

He shifted. It was cold.

 

Matlal sighed. _I wonder how Dad is? He’ll have figured out where I went by now, but is he worried? He trusts me, I think, but going this far…_ Restless nights on a rocking ship caught up with him before he finished that thought, and sleep overcame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. What to say about Matlal...  
> Well, he tries.
> 
> I joke. He is a character of extremes, and tries to balance these as best he can. Other than that, he has changed a great deal, almost the most, since conception.


	4. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam needs to talk to people more. He goes to weird places when he doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not fully understand myself, but who claims to truly be aware of their every action, every thought, every fragment of soul? I make no such claim, but that does not stop me from being myself.

Sam began his day with the same exuberant smile that he greeted every Monday with. If anyone had been around, they would've thought it creepy as fuck, certainly, but it was how he did things. He was moving slower than normal as he broke down and hid his camp, but he was optimistic. He’d been tracking this one for days, building up what he needed to get it done. He could do this. He refound the tracks and followed them again. A wolf was terrorizing a local herd and, while it wasn’t any real nuisance to the herd’s owner, he’d been hired to take its bounty. Wolf was edible, he brought in something a proof of kill, he’d have a meal, money, material for a new blanket or something, and the other uneasy feeling in his stomach would go away. It was going to be simple, straightforward, and even helpful: track, confirm, shoot, _kill_.

 

There it was. The problem, which shouldn’t be there. If he could, he’d hate that part, but that was another problem altogether. He’d have to get over it, however. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d find a way to survive with it. Just in case.

 

He didn’t use his little trick when following the wolf. That would have made things worse. He instead relied on his father’s advice. _Don’t look for something that stands out; this is their home even more than ours. Look for where the land is familiar with them, small trails, hollows in branches, beaten down grass where you’ve never walked, then go for the pawprints and scat._ He missed him. For some reason, missing him was okay, and he was lucky for that. The trail veered into a fresh kill, and he took in the details. Crows scattered as he moved, far more than usual, attracted by more meat than a pack would leave. _A lone wolf?_ It made a sort of sense, he’d only ever found one size of tracks. Was it like him? Did it choose to be alone, or did it just…

 

A shiver went down his neck, like he was the one being hunted. The crows still cawed and flapped around him, wanting their leftovers of their lone friend’s kill. Sam moved on. He wasn’t one to disturb them needlessly. The tracks led him far, closer to the Vale Mountains than he normally appreciated. Too far east of the villages, and far too close to _that_ place _._ Did it scare the wolf, too? Mountain Glenn had been ruins before he was even born, but he could feel it, sometimes more than his father doe…

 

Had. His father _had._ Sam pushed the thought out of his head. Missing him and fixating were too different things, and he couldn’t afford the latter. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow, turning back to the task at hand. The wolf was still far away, it’s den probably in a cave on the mountains, but this place was Grimm territory. He didn’t dare risk anything here. As he walked, he could feel something getting closer, or, rather, he was approaching it. He carefully skirted around It, deviating from the simple tracks. He’d find them again, he was sure; this was an easier hunt than he’d expected. But he did not want to go too close to It along the way. It was wrong in the way only one thing felt.

 

Sam picked back up on the trail again, hearing another crow caw and flap by. He was close. Crows and wolves were always close together, in hunt, in patrol, and in home. It must be nice to always have such companions. Did wolves ever consider crows to be their companions, or just think of them as tools? He knew the animals weren’t so sentient that they would think that way, but a part of him would always wonder. He was, himself, not too different from the wolves. He had to hunt to survive, track and run and fight to survive, _kill_ to…

 

Again. He’d tried not thinking about it, but that didn’t work. He was different from this wolf in a few ways, namely, he couldn’t kill anymore. Not since his trick had developed. He felt them die when he tried, and he didn’t like that. It was a hell of a situation, a hunter with no way to kill his prey, but he persisted. There was his application to Beacon, they had seemed interested in the other side of his trick, even with the side effect. But, if that didn’t work out, this was his only chance. His only way to live was to hunt, just like the wolves. Just like this wolf.

 

He felt the chill again. He was being hunted, he knew. It was trailing him, but he could feel It now and It would be expecting some unaware prey. It would be wrong. He turned back, walking away from the den (it would be stupid to fight this close to his target, even if he was downwind the sound would alert them) and pulled his bow tight, aiming for where It was going to break through. Sam’s heart slowed as he heard It crashing through the branches above: a Nevermore, the Grimm imitation of a massive crow, wingspan reaching just over six feet. Despite himself, he chuckled. _Wolves and crows are never separate in their hunt, are they?_ He could feel It’s malice, hatred without reason, hunger for more rage, more fear, more darkness to consume. Whatever his problem with killing animals, he had no problem driving an arrow through It’s head.

 

 _It's a shame you can’t eat Grimm meat, but I guess darkness doesn’t really do much for human nourishment._ He stalked back to the den, catching sight of the wolf as it- _no, she-_ emerged. Sam drew his bow and centered himself, his heart slowing as he marked the animal’s heart. In that peace, he felt what part of him had dreaded feeling: he felt her soul. _She was scared, they’d left her behind when the Invaders had begun pushing in, but she had to stay. At least for now. She was strong and wise, she could last until the end of the summer, then she could rejoin her pack, and they’d be happy to take her. She just had to carry on until-_

 

The bowstring left his grasp, and a solitary arrow slammed into something soft. The wolf looked around, finding the arrow in the ground at her feet, and dashed back inside the cave, her defensive growling raising tiny mewls of protest from inside. Sam stood, backing away. She’d be gone soon, and the sheep would be safe. That was all he needed.

 

On the walk back, he convinced himself: he wouldn’t kill. He wasn’t a wolf, he couldn’t take another creature’s life like that, even if he needed it to survive. To protect, maybe, but no more. He passed the clearing with the kill. She had taken it down by herself and, even if it would take actual focus to tell what animal it was now, he knew it was an admirable feat. The crows shifted around him, squawking at the twice-intruder. Crows never killed, were rarely hostile: they never needed to be, as they were fast and cunning. They pointed out the weakest prey to the wolves and let them do the killing. _I could live to be a crow,_ Sam thought. _Even if Beacon doesn’t work out, I could work for the villages more directly to get by. They could always use a hand and Grimm killer, even if I can’t be a Huntsman._

 

He carried on into town, ready to give bad news, and only half expecting the good news that was waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam has issues and his issues have issues. One of these issues is a pure heart and kind soul that maintains its optimism while being fully aware of the world it faces.


	5. Prologue

Legacies. Supposed gifts passed to the next generation. For as long as mankind has recorded, one such legacy is the opposition of the Creatures of Grimm: beings of darkness and evil, intent only on destroying what little humanity has built, as their nature demanded. And nature was a cruel mistress, but from time to time she was fair, and gifted the few people of the world a power capable of fighting off the horrors of the darkness: a beautiful glow of defense around the chosen, wielded as a shield from harm made from one's own internal radiance. Named after the first among them, these chosen called it Aura, and set out to use this gift, along with many others, to forge a legacy unlike any previous: a legacy of prosperity. Such a legacy may seem inherently good, but all good things can be perverted, as is the case of the Faunus. A second people, smaller in number but equal in heart and mind, humanity feared them as a threat, and, through the centuries, fought, killed, enslaved, and segregated them until, finally, equality was formed under the banner of the White Fang. Slowly, however, hatred and prejudice bled into Faunus hearts and such a paragon of equality became an institute of hatred and rage, violently seeking to turn the world back to oppression in the name of justice and the heart of vengeance. These actions once again insinuated fear on both sides, and old beliefs and hatred resurfaced. Is this all that supposed civilization can be? It's legacy an endless cycle of hatred and division, punctuated briefly by the hopeful few?

  
Or perhaps something new can exist. A vision not of enemies burning and killing each other out of difference, but of brothers and sisters, standing proudly together, in defiance to the shadow cast across them.


	6. Chapter 1: Half the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends Matty and Alice take a ride to their new school, discuss their plan, and try to make friends.

Sometimes, Alice and Scruffy just made Matty sick. It's not that he didn't like them, he loved them as much as he'd ever loved anyone. It's just that the two seemed obsessed with seeing who could win their… tongue wrestling. Just as he finished debating awkwardly hugging them both to kill the mood, the airship gave practicality a win and announced last call aboard. Scruffy pulled back from the kiss and stared into his entire world’s eyes. “Be sure to call.”

“Every chance I get,” Alice whispered back, pulling him back down into a final embrace before he left, punching Matty in the shoulder as he went.

“So,” her beanpole best friend said. “You want window seat or aisle?

“Oh, there’s no seating. We just stand.”

Matty's long strides halted for a second before falling back with her much more hurried gait. “No seats? Just… standing around like sardines?”

“Oh, it’s hardly as bad as you think. It’s not like a lot of people get this far.”  
  
He chuckled nervously, one hand scratching under the thick scarf he had wrapped around almost all of his lower face. “That’s not really what I’m worried about.”

“Yeah, but I’m not letting you talk yourself out of it now. You’ve got to kick this, or it’ll really end your chances at this school _on a giant cliff_ ” Alice, damn her, had a point. He couldn’t hold on to this fear. Rationally, a fear of heights was a serious disadvantage for a Hunter to have. He should’ve worked it out back when he first had this idea. He would’ve been able to approach the situation slowly, and worked his way up to the insanity of flying in a metal box.

Of course, he didn’t, because Oliver Mat- Mathias Olivier... was only a half-rational kind of guy. So he stalled until the very last minute, deciding not thinking about it would actually work. And, of course, it didn’t, either.

Fortunately, his friend knew him well, and had used his time musing on this to shove him into the ship, sitting him on the opposite side where everyone would see if he tried to get out. _Well, I’ve committed_ , he sullenly accepted, watching the steel door of the airship’s main deck slam shut as the craft began to lift off. It was well above the city of Vale when he finally calmed down, taking a moment to assess those on the deck. They were… diverse; from the worn, almost ragged appearance of his partner, to a pristine young gentleman in pure white, to a girl in vibrant blues, and a grey vest, everybody had an outfit- and attitude, from their body language- as blatant and individualized as possible. His own clothing, a set of robes made from bolts of coarse fabric and small pouches clipped together, pushed the edge of even this wild group’s outlandishness, just as he’d hoped. _When in Mistral, outdo the Mistrali_ , he twisted the old saying.

The ship itself had a holoscreen on the back, dominated by a news channel, and massive windows across the entire deck, giving a good view of-

Matty lowered himself back to the floor, feeling the thrum of the engines. Alice, always the concerned one, placed her hand on his head, but couldn’t help glancing out the window, trying to pick out a familiar building in the distance. “There’s home,” she whispered to him, then chuckled. “Well, guess Beacon is more our home now.” Her hand came off his head and reached to her own, then stopped. She wanted to scratch at the piercings, but that might knock them loose, and for what it had cost her to hide the ears… She rubbed her temple as a cover. She and Matty had been through shit for their genes before, and they weren’t going to open themselves up to that again. “So, plan?”

“They’ll probably have us into their records until after the initiation test. That means I can’t leave to look for her until our first break, or things will be suspicious.” Matty closed his eyes, going back over what he was here for. Well, part of what he was here for. Beacon students got a damn good tuition, and only an idiot would squander that so soon, Donna or no. “After I find her… I’ll have to plan then; too many variables, but I’ll definitely be back.”

“Good.” Alice took a measured breath before continuing. “Are you sure she’ll be-“

“She will. With who she was, and what she and my dad were in, there was no way she stayed off record after the Fall.” Regardless of current portrayals, he didn’t say it aloud. _So many secrets to keep. This is just getting annoying, really_. The news report cut out, and Matty couldn’t help but turn to see the hologram change. Instead of the standard newsfeed, a tall man with golden hair and scratched white armor was speaking in a friendly tone.

“-on passing the preliminary tests for getting into Beacon Academy. We’ve had to cut the Headmistress’s speech, due to,” he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully “an unexpected meeting. This will give you a little extra opportunity to prepare for Initiation, for which your papers give a time and location. I can’t stress this: come ready to fight and take every second you can to prepare for everything.” He smiled wide, breaking the intimidating look he might have had otherwise. “I look forward to teaching you all. Welcome to Beacon.” With that, the holoscreen went clear and the giant cliffside tower of Beacon Academy came into view. Matty stood up to get a better look, heights or no, and couldn’t help but feel a little impressed.

He had seen news reports of the Fall as a kid, the glowing spire shattered by some kind of giant Grimm, and it had always loomed in the distance, but nothing matched a close-up of the new Communication Tower standing over the renovated school. Only seven years since its reopening, the stone and steel still shined white in its arching, dreamlike design, which did exactly what it was intended to: it stunned the incoming students silent.

After the initial awe wore off, the new students began shuffling around, grabbing whatever luggage they had carried on and preparing for the new life ahead of them. In the midst of all this, Matty did a quick headcount of his competition, then clipped his sword’s holster on his back. Out of the entire bunch, only one student seemed nervous; the rest moved with a steady determination, some even eager to get out. Either he was surrounded by some of the most overconfident people on the planet, or this was a very well trained crowd. _Whichever it is,_ he thought, smiling _, this will be a very… interesting school._

 

Weiss Schnee watched the airship’s occupants spill onto her campus, sipping a hot mug of coffee. It was, without a doubt, the single most useful habit she’d picked up from one of her predecessors and, after that particular meeting, proved its worth yet again. Keeping Konnor under wraps would certainly prove difficult, especially with his separate arrival but, fortunately, he hadn’t been the only one to forgo the airship. She brought up the list of students again, barely nodding as the door behind her opened, and a familiar set of worn shoes scuffed the floor.

“It looks like we have a strong group to start with. A few heavy hitters, the girl with the sword, and that Sam kid…” Jaune Arc had grown up a great deal since they’d first met on… less-than-cordial terms. In a strange way, their changes, moving away from their family legacies and into their own light, had mirrored each other. But while she had taken her legacy back, he had happily left his behind for something closer to what he wanted. Now, he delivered his final assessment to Beacon’s Headmistress on the students’ class schedules. “Most of them should get through as well as we did.”

Weiss looked at the schedules, frowning slightly. “And the uptick in Grimm?”

“A team has already volunteered for rescue. It seems protecting your old Academy is a popular thing nowadays.” Weiss flicked through the final few classes, nodding at Jaune’s cheerful tone. How her assistant teacher ever got to stay so cheery would be a mystery to her, but, hopefully, it’d stay consistent with the upcoming news.

“There’s one more student,” she announced, causing him to pause. “A late applicant sent over with a letter of recommendation from Atlas. Due to… personal requests, you’ll have to fill out his classes personally.”

He actually frowned at that. “Winter?” She nodded. “Can we at least see his test scores? I don’t want to put him up against the wrong opponent.” Without a word, Weiss handed him a data scroll on the kid’s application. Jaune took a few seconds to read through, then another few to confirm he’d just read that. “Did he really…” Jaune honestly didn’t know how to say the question, but she nodded anyway. She had wondered the same thing, and Yang’s testimony, as well as the damage bill she’d shown, had more than proven his ability without his semblance. He handed her back the scroll, then walked back out of the room. He paused at the elevator. “Oh, and Blake wants to help with the initiation.”

“You two just love seeing teenagers fly off cliffs,” Weiss teased, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Alright, but you’re on return duty. I can only handle one of you at a time.”

“No problem.” With that, the doors shut and Weiss returned to watching her students meander around campus. They needed the extra time to get on their feet, first, then they’d hopefully be ready to face Initiation. She squinted at the courtyard. _Is there **already** a fight?_

 

Alice slipped between Matty and the blonde girl. She didn’t blame her for wanting to stab her friend, but she wasn’t going to let it happen. “Okay, what in hell is going o-“

“He tried to take my sword!” the girl spat. Matty portrayed a similar distress, but with a more apologetic look.

“I know, I thought it was an antique and wanted to see how well it looked!” He was giving her a way to defuse the situation, of course, apologize for him and give the other girl some catharsis that didn’t come out of him. She wasn’t going to let him get off easy, however. Alice turned to face him, mostly to keep the other girl from noticing the cruel smile she was showing.”

“What kind of idiot move is that?” she shouted. “Are you trying to cause trouble?”

He couldn’t give her a look, what with the other girl still glaring, but she felt it. He knew where this was going. He did not like it, but he went along anyway. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded to both. “I thought she wouldn’t mind, and it’s such a nice-“

She scoffed. “It’s like I can’t take you anywhere, kid. Don’t rob people, alright?” she turned to the girl, her face back under control. “Listen, I’m sorry about him, he tends to get a bit excited about weapons.” As Matty floundered, she extended a hand. “I’m Alice.”

The girl took the hand in a heavy grip. “Lily.” She still looked more annoyed than anything when turning back to Mayy. “Listen, kid, this might be exciting right now, but you need to get serious. There’s shit coming, and that shit will kill you, understand?”

“S-sure!” his voice squeaked and, satisfied, she walked away. He sighed, bringing his voice back down as Alice leaned against him. “You could’ve done that without giving that much away.”

She smirked, slipping her heel onto his toe and applying pressure. “Yeah, but you need to learn a thing or two about people. What went wrong?”

“I thought she’d be a bit more amicable. Start an early friendship, get her talking about that sword she was fondling so much.”

She glanced up at him.

“…okay, not the best phrasing, and I did miscalculate. Must have missed a variable or something.”

“Yeah, Beanpole, you really did. So, anyone else you plan to get stabbed by?”

“Well, the guy in pink has a big enough sword for a decent impalement… man, what is with me today?” That got a small laugh from her as the spectators began to wander off. “So, now that we’re here, any idea what the plan is for Initiation itself?”

“They’re pretty tight-lipped about that actually. So far, All I could get out of anyone, even dropouts, is that it’s tough. You sure we’re ready?”

“Statistically, we’re about 70% likely to be ready. Well,” he scratched the back of his head. “it’s a 75% chance for me, and 60% for you.”

“Ha ha, asshole.” She elbowed him in the stomach. “Come on, we need to get our stuff. Just because everyone is supposed to be a fine upstanding Hunter applicant doesn’t mean I’m trusting them not to take a few things.”

“Take what?” Matty asked, joking. “It’s not like we have anything they’d want.”

“Fang’s in there.”

He stopped talking, thought for a second, then increased his pace, Alice breaking into a jog to match. As unpredictable as Matty could be, you could always count on him treating that weapon like his own kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapter:  
> Nicollette dug through the airship’s compartment carefully. Her suitcase had to be in there, she knew it. Luckily, she’d carried her weapons on the way up (turns out, a pair of sticks and a gun without a nozzle or firing mechanism can be cleared for carry-on by an Academy student), but without any of her clothes, she would either need to take a very fast trip into town for clothes shopping, wear her uniform everywhere, or have a very generous- and hopefully similarly sized- teammate. All that was assuming she actually made it past initiation, of course. Didn’t want to think about that, brain. Everyone on the airship had seemed so at ease about this, like it was just a regular boarding school not, you know, the Super Warrior School of the kingdom. Then again, for them, this is a normal school. They probably use their aura more in a week than I’ve used in my life. Absentmindedly, she felt and pulled out her bag, only for something to move with it.  
> She squeaked, jumping back as the… thing… flowed out of the compartment and pooled near her feet. It was like oil, seemingly absorbing the light around it, then slowly rising up, taking a humanoid shape as it slowly lightened to a patchwork of grey. The figure slung their bag over their shoulder and smiled at her, pulling up the hood to reveal mismatched hazel and grey eyes in a round, smiling face.  
> “Hello!” he said cheerfully, then walked off towards the school. Nicolette subconsciously took a step back, bumping into another figure. She turned to meet another student staring after him. The student, met her eyes, just as shocked as her, slowly blinked, then let out a nervous chuckle.  
> “This place is crazy, isn’t it?” She emphatically nodded, to which he chuckled again. “I’m Matty,” he said, leaning down to grab his own gym bag as a much smaller girl did the same behind him. “You?”  
> “Uh, N-nicolette.” She winced at the slip, but he glossed over it.  
> “Nice to meet you.” He straightened. Dust, he’s tall. “Mind if I call you Nikki?  
> “Go ahead.” Nikki. She actually liked that.  
> So, what do you think is going to happen for initiation?”  
> “Um, I’m not really sure. I… guess you could say I’m new at this? I got a scholarship for my application scores.”  
> “You too?” He glanced down at her, his smile shrunken to a slight smirk. Now that I think about it, he’s pretty tall. “Allie and I made the scholarship, too. We’re both pretty new at this, too, so it looks like we’re in the same spot. I personally think we’re going to be in an arena match, or one-on-one sparring with the other students.”  
> “We’re going to go through a mission simulation, more likely.” The girl, Allie, proposed, nodding to Nikki, and she found herself agreeing.  
> “That does make the most sense. We’re not competing with each other.”  
> “Well, I hope not,” Matty said, chuckling as he looked back to where the other student had appeared. “I do not like the idea of going up against that guy. I can only think of a couple ways he could’ve done that, and none of them are pleasant to fight with.”


End file.
